


Call Me Jeff

by Serenitys_Lady



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Angst, Christmas, F/M, Redemption
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-30
Updated: 2018-12-30
Packaged: 2019-09-30 22:11:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17232131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Serenitys_Lady/pseuds/Serenitys_Lady
Summary: The Doctor is at a loss to understand Donna’s dislike of Christmas, and hatches a plan to open her mind and heart to his favourite Earth holiday.





	Call Me Jeff

**Author's Note:**

> A/N1: The film the Doctor is watching is the 1984 television version of “A Christmas Carol” with George C. Scott as Ebenezer Scrooge and David Warner (cast deliciously against type) as Bob Cratchit – IMHO the best version of this story. If you haven’t seen it, give yourself a gift. Find it and watch it!
> 
> A/N2: See the Doctor’s Christmas jumper here: http://www.sundaywoman.com/david-tennant-alexandra-burke-and-friends-attend-hogwarts-in-the-snow/
> 
> A/N3: And speaking of “A Christmas Carol”, as usual, this bit of fiction went to a place I hadn’t planned or expected. The ‘reclamation’ of Sylvia Noble was never a part of my original thought process. My Muse, however, had other ideas.

The Doctor was stood in the middle of the busy sidewalk, his eyes wide with wonder, a grin of unabashed delight spreading across his face.  He was blissfully unaware of the people jostling around him, as he gazed at the decorations hanging above him and the shop displays in the windows.

 

He was equally unaware that his companion had stopped a fair distance away, and now glowered at him as she strode purposefully back to him.

 

“Is it too much to ask,” Donna Noble demanded loudly, as she approached the enchanted Time Lord, “that you not stop every three seconds?  It’s bad enough that I have to deal with the bloody crowds on Oxford Street two days before Christmas.  I shouldn’t have to chase after a 900 year old alien who’s acting like a toddler in a toy shop!”

 

“But Donna,” the Doctor enthused.  “Isn’t it beautiful?  The lights, all bright and twinkly.  The colours: reds and greens, gold and silver, and blue.  It’s amazing!  And the smells!!”  He grabbed her hand and dragged her over to a nearby shop, where a chocolatier was carefully pouring a dark liquid into moulds.  “Look at that,” he prattled.  “Liquid chocolate.  What a concept!  You humans amaze me sometimes, with your creativity and inventiveness.”

 

He bounced on this toes, peering into the shop, his nose practically pressed to the glass.  His eyes widened again when he spied another confection and blurted out, “Candy canes!  How could I forget candy canes!!  Portable peppermint.”  He popped the p’s with abandon.

 

He dashed down the street a short ways, still dragging Donna by the hand.  “And that!” he gestured toward a grizzled old man turning over a mound of roasted chestnuts.  “Can you beat that, Donna?” he asked ardently.  “A bag of chestnuts, to warm the hands and delight the tongue.”  He pulled out some crumpled banknotes, received the precious sack, and sniffed deeply.

 

Whirling around in his exuberance for the season, he exclaimed, “Isn’t this the most wonderful time….” His voice trailed off as he finally noticed the demeanour of his companion.  Donna leaned against the nearby building, arms crossed, her face a thunderous cloud of exasperation and annoyance.  He stopped in mid-twirl and strode to her side.

 

With a small, sheepish grin, he said cheekily, “That’s right.  I forgot.  You hate Christmas.”

 

“Got it in one,” she griped.

 

The Doctor’s shoulders slumped.  He had been so hoping that his glee would rub off – at least a little – on her.  “But Donna,” he cajoled, “how can you not be affected by it all?  By the hustle and bustle?  The sidewalk Father Christmases?  Carol singers?”

 

“Oh, I’m affected, alright.  It’s all a big pain in my bum,” she replied sharply.

 

He was completely gobsmacked.  His best friend was the most kind-hearted, generous person he had ever met.  Self-sacrificing and supportive.  “Oh, Donna,” he sighed.  “What happened, that turned you into, well, a bit of a Scrooge, if you don’t mind me saying so?”

 

Donna’s immediate impulse was to lash out at the stupid git.  Didn’t he know how horrible it was for her growing up?  Even as an adult, she never fared any better at this time of year.  Just as she was about to snarl at him, she was struck with a disturbing – and somewhat shaming – thought.  Of course, he didn’t know.  How could he?  She never talked to him about, just said she hated the season.

 

She breathed a deep, weary sigh, and closed her eyes.  After a moment, she opened them again and pleaded, “Can we just drop this for now?  I promise we’ll talk about it, all of it.  But later.  I just want to go find that ‘perfect gift’ for my mother.  You know the one: right colour, right size, exactly what she’s said she’d love to have.  Only it’s precisely the opposite when it comes from me.”  She muttered this last bit under her breath.

 

The Doctor understood that she was quite upset and that it went deeper than just a dislike of holiday crowds.  He trusted that she would confide in him in her own time and, not wanting to exacerbate the issue further, he smiled, and declared cheerfully, “Well, shopping won’t sort out itself.  We’d best be getting on with it.”  Holding out his arm, he exclaimed, “ _Allons-y, Ma’mselle!_ ”

 

“You are such a dork sometimes,” she laughed, relieved – and a little surprised – that he wasn’t pursuing the matter.  Threading her arm through his, she added, “But you’re _my_ dork.”  And with that, they re-entered the morass of people filling the streets of London.

 

That was three of the most enlightening hours the Doctor had ever spent.  Donna proved to be a very efficient shopper.  She rarely dawdled or window-shopped, rather powering into each shop with determination and purpose, evaluating several possible items before making a final choice.  It was a testament to her organizational skills, honed as a temp. 

 

He also realized that he and Donna had very different ideas about the nature and purpose of gift-giving.  He watched in amazement as she grumbled and griped her way through several shops before choosing several trinkets for people he had never heard of and with names that sounded like something out of a Christmas panto.  But one in particular caused him to shake his head and mutter to himself.

 

“Why are you going to so much trouble finding a gift for **_Nerys_**!?” he moaned.

 

She stared at him as if he had grown a second head.  “Why?  Cos she’s a friend,” she replied.

 

The Doctor rolled his eyes dramatically.  “She’s a self-centred, malicious, vindictive little shrew, is what she is,” he countered.

 

“She’s.  A.  Friend,” she repeated, with heavy emphasis.  She pulled him aside, out of the crush of shoppers.  “Look.  I don’t know what it was like on your planet, but here, people give friends gifts.  It doesn’t matter if they are good friends or friends who dance with your fiancé at your aborted wedding reception.  You just do.  And Nerys hasn’t always been like that.”

 

She caught the Doctor giving her the “raised eyebrow” look.  “Okay, yes, she has.  But it doesn’t matter.  She _is_ a friend and I have to get her a gift.  And not something from the £1 bin either.”  She tried to hide a smile.  “Not that I haven’t been tempted.  But that’s just petty.  And quite beneath me,” she added with mock-seriousness.

 

He grinned back at her and shook his head.  “You humans.  Such a strange species.  I don’t think I’ll ever tire of you.”

 

Donna smacked his shoulder playfully.  “Good thing too, since you’re stuck with us.  Or me, in any case.”

 

The Doctor put his arm around her shoulder.  “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

 

After a while, they settled on a rather pricey chiffon scarf with a designer label, in an unusual lime green and salmon that they both agreed was an odd combination but would – surprisingly – go well with Nerys’ pale complexion and over-bleached blonde hair. 

 

Finding a suitable gift for her grandfather Wilf was a simple task.  Donna had already decided to find a woollen scarf and warm gloves that would match the old watch cap he always wore when he went up the hill.  She knew he would never replace the cap, having been a gift from her Nan the last Christmas she was with them.  It got terribly cold up there some times, and both she and her mother worried he’d catch a chill one day.

 

That left only her mother.  Every year, the weeks before Christmas, she scoured the shops looking for something that Sylvia would, at least, not find totally objectionable.  Every year, on Christmas morning, she failed.  And every Boxing Day, she vowed she wouldn’t put any effort into it, buying the first thing she stumbled upon and save herself the grief.

 

This was why she was dragging the Doctor back to Marks & Spencer.  She’d run to the women’s section, grab something off a table and be done with it.  At least she’d be able to pick up some Percy Pig sweets while she was there.

 

As they charged down the street, something in a tiny shop window caught the Doctor’s eye.  He stopped abruptly, causing Donna to jerk backwards, almost losing her footing on the damp sidewalk.  She was about to lay into him, but thought better of it.  He slowly turned to her and said, “Donna.  Look,” and pointed.  Curious, she moved to the window.  And her breath caught when she saw what he had been indicating.

 

Inside the window, toward the back and not very noticeable, was a porcelain statue of a mother holding the hand of a small girl.  It wasn’t very large and couldn’t have been very valuable.  It had the pale wash similar to the signature colouring of a Lladro figurine, but the workmanship wasn’t quite so fine.  What _was_ extraordinary were the figures themselves: a stately blonde woman and a distinctly ginger-haired girl.

 

Donna stared at it in wonder.  As much as she complained about Sylvia’s attitudes, she really did love her dearly and kept hoping that their relationship would improve.  Maybe this was something her mother could appreciate.  And if she didn’t, she’d keep it for herself. 

 

The purchase was made and Donna felt happier than she had been before they had started shopping.  The Doctor was graciously playing the role of pack animal for his companion, relieved to see her in a more festive mood.  They wandered back to the TARDIS and, once inside, she led him to the library, where the ship had set up an elaborate wrapping station for her.  The Doctor deposited her boxes and bags and, after her quick _thank you_ , made to leave.

 

“Oh, Doctor,” Donna called out to him as he reached the door.  “I’ll just sign both our names to the tags for Mum and Gramps.  You’ll be there Christmas morning for present opening and I don’t want it to be awkward.”

 

“Thanks, but no need,” he replied with a sly grin.  “I have my own gifts.”

 

Donna stared at him, gobsmacked.  “You?  You shopped?  Gramps, I can understand.  You are like two peas in a pod.  But Mum?!  You actually bought something for my mother!?”

 

The grin grew to almost a smirk.  “Bought, no.  Acquired, yes.  Created, definitely.”

 

“Just what exactly does _that_ mean,” she asked.

 

“You’ll just have to wait for Christmas morning, young lady.  No peeking.”

 

She tried to bat him with a roll of wrapping paper but he danced out of the way.  As he exited the library, he informed her, “There will be tea and cake in the lounge when you’re finished.”

 

An hour later, a tired but satisfied Donna strolled into the lounge.  And stopped dead as she surveyed the scene before her.  The lounge had been transformed into a Victorian Christmas sitting room, with greenery and fairy lights draped and twined around every surface imaginable.  Wherever there was a flat surface big enough, a scene with houses and people had been arranged.  There was a large wreath above the fireplace, and a garland of fresh cedar and juniper branches bedecked with shiny red baubles and silver stars hung down from the mantelpiece.

 

The most amazing thing, however, was the sight of a 900 year old Time Lord with a paper-chain garland wrapped around his neck, a glass ornament shaped like the bell tower of Big Ben in one hand and what looked like a genuine Fabergé egg in the other.  He was attempting to hang them on the high branches of an enormous Scots pine without the use of a ladder, which, even given his height, was a bit of a stretch.

 

He managed to set both ornaments without incident and was beginning to wind the garland around the branches, when Donna saw something that set her giggling.  As he rounded the tree to the left, she noticed a bit of greenery in his ‘sticky-uppey hair’, as her Gramps called it.  A small sprig of holly had been caught the peaks and sat like a tiny crown on the top of his head.

 

At the sound of his companion’s laughter, the Doctor turned and grinned.  “Donna!” he exclaimed, pleased to see that her mood had lightened significantly.  He started toward her, trailing the paperchain behind him.  “I was hoping to have this finished before you were done with your wrapping.”  He gazed at her anxiously.  “I hope this is alright.  I know how you feel about Christmas.”

 

Donna’s heart warmed at his concern.  She stepped over to him and gently removed the holly from his hair.  “About that,” she said.  “Maybe it’s time I explained it to you.  You deserve that much.”  She took the garland from his hands and dropped it unceremoniously on the floor, and led him over to the soft leather sofa. 

 

The Doctor waited patiently as she took a moment to compose her thoughts.  He realized this was a significant moment in their relationship, and he was not about to ruin it with a silly quip or an unthinking comment.

 

Donna closed her eyes and took a deep breath.  When she opened them again, she was determined to explain everything to her best friend.  “I used to love Christmas,” she began.  “Everything, just like you said earlier.  The lights, the colours, the smells.  I would diligently write my letter to Father Christmas and leave cookies and cocoa on Christmas Eve.  It was wonderful, magical.”

 

Her brow furrowed as memories broke through her carefully constructed defences.  “I didn’t have a great time in school.  I was teased unmercifully about my hair, my middle-class background, my ‘unladylike demeanour’ – I got into fights a lot,” she explained sheepishly.  “One girl in particular, Cordelia Pritchard-Smith, took it upon herself to make my life as miserable as possible. 

 

I was about six, I think, when it happened.  It was the last day of school before the Christmas holiday.  Cordelia overheard me telling one of the other girls that I had to go home and write my letter to Santa and get it in the post before it was too late.  She followed me out of the schoolyard and proceeded to tell me what a stupid little baby I was; didn’t I know that Santa wasn’t real?  When I protested, telling her I always got presents from Santa, she laughed in my face and let me know in no uncertain terms that all those gifts were bought and paid for by my parents and they just pretended they were from Santa.  Then, she pushed me down into the snow, and left, laughing even harder.”

 

Donna swallowed back the beginning of tears and continued.  “I lay in the snow for a long time, before one of the teachers noticed I hadn’t come back in.  I was soaked to the skin at that point, and I wouldn’t stop crying, so they had to call someone to come pick me up.  Mum had a late shift at the hospital, so my father left work to fetch me.  I cried all the way home, and ran immediately to my room and locked the door.  He was so sweet, talking to me through the door and trying to understand what happened.  He finally called my Nan, and she and Gramps came over.

 

“I finally opened the door for Gramps and, still crying in that hiccupping way children do as they wind down, I poured out the whole story.  It was odd.  I think I wasn’t as upset about finding out Santa wasn’t real, as I was that my family had lied to me about it.  Nan and Gramps tried to assure me that Cordelia was a wicked child who just liked to hurt other people and I shouldn’t believe anything she said.  They had just about convinced me, when I heard the front door open and knew Mum was home.

_“‘Where is everyone?’_ she called out, immediately suspicious.

_“‘Up here,’_ Dad replied.  He started down the stairs to head her off, to give me time to pull myself together.  But he could never stand up to her.  She barged into the room, took one look at my red, puffy eyes and blotchy, tear-stained face, and blurted exasperatedly, _‘Oh, for heaven’s sake.  Now what?’_

 

“Nan tried to explain, hoping she would be more sympathetic hearing it from her, but was stopped by a single raised finger.  _‘Father Christmas?!?’_ she shouted.  _‘All this bother about a child’s fantasy?!?  About time she learned reality from fiction,’_ she stated, as she gave my father a pointed glare.  She then turned back to me and said, _‘Now you listen to me, Madam.  There’s no point in making such a fuss about a fairy tale.  Stop that crying and wash your face.’_   And then she headed back downstairs, muttering under her breath about inconsiderate children and irresponsible adults not thinking about others and leaving all the work to her.”

 

Donna stood and, retrieving the garland from the floor, slowly continued the Doctor’s decorating.  He realized she had more to say and wisely kept quiet.  After a few turns around the tree, she returned to the sofa.  “After that, I did try to make an effort to enjoy Christmas, at least for my grandparents’ and Dad’s sake.  I got really good at it, pretending that nothing had changed.  But the magic was gone.”

 

“Oh, Donna,” the Doctor cried, finally breaking his silence.  He gathered her into a fierce hug and held her tightly.  “I am so, so sorry.  I knew your mother was a harridan, but to do that to her own daughter!”

 

Donna pulled away from his grasp and surreptitiously wiped her eyes.  “Don’t be so hard on her.  She really did think she was doing me a favour.  And,” she gave a bitter laugh, “that cynical attitude helped prepare me for future disappointment.”  At the Doctor’s quizzical look, she explained, “A lot of the men I dated tended to break up with me just before the holidays.  To keep from having to buy me a gift, usually.  So I learned not to expect anything from anyone.”

 

“No one should ever be treated that way!” the Doctor declared indignantly.

 

“Of course, you’re right,” she replied.  “But in retrospect, it’s all made me the person I am, so I can’t really complain.  I am my own woman and don’t need to rely on anyone.”  She stopped a moment as a thought popped into her head.  “Well, nobody but _you_ ,” she amended with a small smile.

 

The Doctor had been growing concerned, worried that her past experiences had seriously damaged his companion.  But he smiled with relief – and a little bit of smugness – at her declaration.  He wasn’t prepared for her next statement.

 

“So, listen to me, Spaceman.  When we go over to there tomorrow, I don’t want to hear a single word from you against my Mum.  No matter **_what_** she says or does.  Whether she welcomes me with open arms or blatantly ignores me, you are **_NOT_** to say a word about anything I’ve told you.  You are not to be disrespectful or rude.  She is my mother, and I won’t have her shown anything but courtesy and politeness.  Do you understand me?”

 

He opened his mouth to respond, but words would not come.  He tried a second time and failed again.  He finally managed to squeak out her name.  “Donna,” he whined.

 

“I mean it, Doctor.  One comment, one roll of the eyes, and I’ll kick your skinny alien arse back out to the TARDIS so fast your head will spin.”  She wagged a finger inches away from his nose.  “You got that?” 

The Doctor stared and simply nodded his head.  “Good.  Now, shall I play Mother?” she asked with a smirk and proceeded to pour them each a cup of the cinnamon and clove spiced tea he had prepared.

 

The next morning, Donna left to attend a Christmas Eve brunch with _‘the girls’_ , an activity the necessity of which still baffled the Doctor, but he had learned to keep his observations on the subject to himself.  Watching her exit loaded down with gifts for her – in his opinion – unworthy acquaintances, he shook his head, marvelling once again at the generosity of spirit that was so much a part of her. 

 

He stood quietly a moment, noticing once again how empty the TARDIS felt without his companion.  He hadn’t realized how used he had become to the sound of her presence.  Not just her voice, but the myriad of little sounds that remind him she’s there: the clink of pots and utensils in the kitchen when she’s making them a meal; the soft hum of her blow dryer; the tinkle of her laughter he hears down the hallway when she’s watching one of her silly sitcoms in the media room.  All of these gave him a surprisingly comforting feeling.

 

After a stop in his room, he strolled down to the library where Donna’s wrapping station was still set up.  He gently laid the boxes he carried down on the table top, and smiled to himself as he inspected each one, anticipating the joy they – hopefully – will bring the recipients.  He thoughtfully chose the paper and trim for each package, silently thanking his ship for providing some beautiful traditional Gallifreyan patterns. 

 

When he was finished, he carefully cleaned the area of any bits or bobs that Donna could spy that would give away his secrets.  He was feeling quite smug over the fact that he had gifts of his own to give, thereby surprising his companion, and sincerely hoped that they would please her family.  Besides genuinely wanting to, he felt making such a gesture would ease a bit of the awkwardness – and possible hostility – his presence at the family gathering might provoke.

 

Donna return to the TARDIS a while later, a little unsteady on her pins but in a reasonably good mood.  It seems the _‘girls’ brunch’_ wasn’t nearly as disastrous as the Doctor had imagined.  Despite Nerys’ not-so-subtle snide remarks about Donna’s continued absences – not to mention her obviously bargain bin gift of odd-smelling bath crystals – Donna found she fell back into an easy rapport with her friends.  Since several of them were women whom she met while temping, they swapped stories of people they worked for and situations they experienced.  She was purposefully vague about her circumstances, only stating that she was working as a personal assistant to a doctor who travelled the world assisting with one crisis or another.  She endured their good-natured teasing about _‘the wealthy doctor’_ and was secretly delighted at the sour look of jealousy that Nerys wore during the balance of luncheon.

 

They were not expected for Christmas Eve dinner with her family until later that evening, so Donna decided she needed a nap to recover from her outing with her friends.  After a restorative sleep and a leisurely shower, she took care with her hair and makeup and finally felt she was sufficiently prepared to deal with whatever her mother could toss her way. 

 

She set out to look for the Doctor but was surprised he wasn’t in any of the usual places.  The control room, the kitchen and even the Christmas-bedecked lounge was empty.  She headed toward the living quarters, thinking he might have gone to his room for some reason, and began to get a little concerned when there was no response to her knock.  Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted light spilling out from a doorway down the corridor.  As she headed in that direction, she could hear the sound of voices and quickly realized he was in the media room.

 

She stood quietly in the doorway and observed the Doctor without his noticing.  He was sat on his usual chair but instead of being relaxingly reclined, he leaned forward gazing intently on the screen, his chin resting on his palms.  She heard a voice from the screen say, _‘My child.  My little, little child,’_ and she realized with shock that there were tears glistening on the Doctor’s cheek. 

 

Donna softly cleared her throat and stepped into the room.  The Doctor looked up at her and clicked the remote, turning off the player.  “Gets me every time.  Poor Bob Cratchit.”  He smiled unapologetically, when Donna reached over and wiped the moisture from his cheeks.

 

“I always knew you were an old softy,” she gently teased.  “Come on, Emo Boy.  We’re going to be late if we don’t get a shift on.”

 

The Doctor chuckled and stood up, leading her out of the door.  “Just give me a couple of minutes to change.”

 

‘Change?” Donna asked stunned?  “I can’t believe I’m saying this but what’s wrong with that suit?”

 

He stopped in front of his bedroom door and stared at her, affronted.  “You didn’t think I’d dress appropriately for Christmas Eve dinner with your family?  Donna Noble, you wound my hearts.  Now, go.  I’ll meet you in the Control Room in fifteen minutes.”  And he slipped into his room.

 

Donna gaped at the closed door, not quite sure what had just happened.  He was obviously planning something and she suspected it would be what _he_ would consider a grand gesture.  She made a sudden decision and hurried to her own room.  When she emerged, she had exchanged her trousers and jumper for a calf-length royal blue chiffon skirt, a sequined tunic, and satin flats.  She had even taken a couple of precious seconds to sweep her hair up in messy cascading curls.

 

She entered the Control Room cautiously, not knowing what to expect from the eccentric Time Lord.  What she found was astonishing.  She watched him as he strode around the console, adjusting knobs and flipping switches.  As he moved, she was able to see his attire quite distinctly.

 

In place of his usual pinstripes, the Doctor was clad in black dress trousers, a crisp white linen shirt with French cuffs, and a deep burgundy velvet suitcoat.  He had even managed to find a tie in a coordinating burgundy and gold brocade.  Only the black trainers he wore remained true to his nature.  Almost unconsciously, she let out a low whistle.

 

The Doctor had heard Donna come in but purposely kept his gaze on the console, giving her ample opportunity to assess his wardrobe choices.  It always tickled him to surprise his companion.  He really thought he’d outdone himself this time.

 

He wasn’t prepared, therefore, when he looked up at the sound of her whistle and saw her.  His look of smug satisfaction quickly turned into one of awe.  “Donna,” he breathed.  “You look….” He trailed off, trying to decide on the right word.  “…beautiful,” he ended lamely.

 

Donna’s cheeks pinked and she dropped her gaze.  “You don’t clean up half bad yourself,” she replied to hide her embarrassment.  “So what brought all this on?” she asked, touching the brocade tie.  “I thought you _lived_ in that suit.”

 

It was the Doctor’s turn to blush. “I just wanted to do this all right and proper.  Give you a good experience of Christmas, maybe even a little surprise.” – he paused before finishing with – “And, if I’m honest, I hoped it would give your mother one less thing to be annoyed about.”

 

“Silly Spaceman,” she said with a smile and a pat on the cheek.  “Mum will appreciate the effort.  Now, come on.  We don’t want to ruin it all by being late, do we?”

 

“Time machine,” he stated with a look of exasperation.

 

“Don’t you roll your eyes at me, Sunshine,” she retorted.  “The way you drive this thing, we’d end up in Iceland or the Middle Ages!”

 

“That’s a bit harsh!” he protested.  Seeing her raised eyebrows, he shrugged.  “But probably true.  However, not only are we right on time, we are already parked around the corner from the house.”

 

The evening went much better than either the Doctor or Donna could have expected.  After an initial sniff where she saw the Doctor standing behind her daughter – even though Donna **_had_** told her they both were coming – Sylvia Noble decided, for the sake of the season, she would be the bigger person and tolerate _‘that man’_ in her house.

 

To her great surprise, the Doctor turned out to be an exceptional houseguest.  He was courteous, respectful, and obliging.  During dinner, he regaled them with witty – but greatly abbreviated – stories of their travels, always making a point to include how clever and important Donna was to their successes.  He shocked both Sylvia _and_ Donna when he volunteered to help with the washing up.  Sylvia thanked him, but shooed him and Wilf outside, and the Doctor joined the older man ‘ _up the hill’._

 

When the two men had left with the thermos of tea and plate of Christmas cookies, Donna and her mother cleared the table, and wrapped and put away the leftovers.  Donna washed the dishes and Sylvia dried, all done without a word spoken.  Finally, Sylvia put down her tea towel and asked pointedly, “So you’re his assistant now?”

 

Donna examined her mother’s face, searching for any sign of derision or scorn, but found only genuine interest.  She answered slowly, “Yeah, I guess I am.  And sounding-board.  And carer.”  At Sylvia’s confused expression, she explained, “I have to remind the silly git to eat most of the time!”

 

Sylvia laughed derisively.  “Him?!  The way he shovels it in?!”

 

“I know,” Donna agreed.  “But that’s just it.  He gets so wrapped up being clever and saving the Universe all the time that, when he finally does slow down a bit and eats what I push in front of him, it’s like his body remembers that it needs sustenance and makes up for it.”  She waited for her mother to make some snide remark.

 

Sylvia eyed her daughter thoughtfully.  “And this all makes you happy?” she asked.  “Gallivanting around with an alien madman?”

 

“It really does, Mum,” Donna replied.  “I’m finally feeling like I’m doing something worthwhile, that I’m making a difference.”  She leaned against the cabinet behind her.  “The Doctor always tells me I’m brilliant.  Not that I believe him, most of the time.  But no one has ever said that to me before.”

 

Sylvia was about to comment, when excited voices from the hallway interrupted them.  “Donna!” the Doctor exclaimed as he ran toward her.  “You’ve got to come see!  I think your Grandfather and I have discovered a brand new star system!”  He grabbed her hand and started to pull her toward the door.

 

“Hang on, there, Spaceman,” she declared, planting her feet, causing him to stagger back.  “That star cluster can wait.  It about time for the Carols from King’s College program.  Mum and Gramps really love it, and it’s sort of a tradition on Christmas Eve.”

 

Although he was disappointed that she didn’t want to share in their discovery, he was determined to make a good impression and not spoil the surprisingly pleasant evening, so he cheerfully joined them in the lounge.  Sylvia and Wilf took their usual armchairs, which left the settee for Donna and the Doctor. 

 

Donna should have felt awkward sitting in such close proximity of her companion, but somehow it felt right.  For the Doctor’s part, truth be told, for all his protests about _‘domestics’_ , he was enjoying the comfortable leisure of just sitting, listening to the sweet, plaintive tones of the choirboys’ voices.  He observed with amusement that Sylvia _‘listened’_ with her eyes closed, and Wilf hummed along, quietly and unselfconsciously. 

 

When the carols were done, they watched _A Christmas Carol_ in the telly, one of the older versions, of which the Doctor was **_not_** a fan.  He mumbled to himself how George C. Scott’s rendition of Ebenezer Scrooge was **_much_** closer to old Charlie’s original intent, and who in their right mind would have sat around his cold, dank quarters in a thin nightshirt and slippers.  He kept up this undercurrent of criticism until Donna poked him sharply in the ribs and told him to hush.

 

Soon, it was time to head over to St. Mary’s Church for Midnight Services.  The Doctor shocked Sylvia by asking if it was alright if he accompanied them.  She stared at him for a moment and then blurted, “Aliens go to church?!” and covered her mouth in embarrassment at her words.  Wilf chuckled to himself but quickly stopped at her glare.

 

“Actually,” the Doctor began quietly, “I do enjoy some of your Earth rituals.  They remind me of my home world – long gone though it is.  Gallifreyans, and Time Lords in particular, were quite found of their ceremonies, and especially at this time of year, your celebrations bring me a little comfort.”  He glanced at Donna and continued, “But if makes you uncomfortable, I’ll return to the TARDIS.”

 

He made to move toward the door, when he felt a hand on his sleeve.  “Doctor,” Sylvia began.  “Please wait.”  He stopped and turned back to her.  “I didn’t mean to be insensitive.”  Donna had, on a previous visit, explained **_very_** briefly about Gallifrey and the Doctor’s status as the last of the Time Lords.  “Of course you’re welcome to join us.  I just never supposed…” she trailed off, clearly unsure of how to express her thoughts.

 

The Doctor was touched at her concern.  “It’s fine, Mrs Noble.  I promise I will be on my best behaviour.  Thank you for letting me share this experience with your family.”

 

The gathered their coats and made the journey to St. Mary’s Church on Hayden Road.  As they entered, the Doctor looked around at the decorations of green, red and gold, at the flowers and the candles.  He wondered if this is what the church had looked like when Donna was unceremoniously transported to his TARDIS that Christmas Eve.  A smile slowly spread on his face as he remembered the events of that day, and his good fortune at having her as a companion.

 

As the group slid into the pew and settled themselves, Donna noticed the Doctor’s expression out of the corner of her eye.  She leaned over and whispered, “What’s with goofy face, Spaceman?  Never been in a church before?”

 

He gave her a look that said _‘oh, please’_ , and stated, “Of course I have.  I was just imagining what this looked like in your almost-wedding day.”

 

“Oh great,” she mumbled.  “Remind of the worst day of my life.”

 

“Really?” he asked incredulously.  “The **_worst_** day?  It was one my **_best_**.”

 

She glared at him.  “Best?  Exactly how was that the best day?” she asked in a hushed whisper.

 

As a single choir boy’s voice, pure and clear, began _‘Once in royal David’s city’_ , the Doctor leaned over and sighed.  “It was the day I met you,” he answered simply.  Sylvia hushed them both and they retreated into silence.

 

The service was as beautiful as the Doctor remembered and it did indeed bring back memories of home for him.  But, for the first time, he felt no grief or regret.  Well, not much, anyway.  He was enthralled with it all and, at some point, when the music and the words of peace and joy almost overwhelmed him, he unconsciously reached for Donna’s hand, and she gave it without hesitation.  When she heard him join in the congregational singing of carols in his rich tenor voice, she squeezed his hand and smiled up at him.

 

Afterwards, they met old friends outside the church, exchanging the greetings of the season and promising to stay in better touch in the new year.  There was a bit of embarrassment when Minnie noticed their still-clasped hands.  After some feeble explanations involving the cold – which no one believed for a second - the Mott-Noble party returned home.

 

It had been arranged that Donna would stay in her old room.  Sylvia offered put the Doctor up on a cot bed they had stored away from the days when Geoff’s football mates would have one too many at the pub and would sleep it off in the lounge.  He politely declined, saying he did not want to impose on them, and would retire to the TARDIS for the night.

 

Donna knew he did not need the amount of sleep that humans required, and would feel awkward lying awake in Sylvia’s home.  She made him promise not to come back promptly at 11:00 am for brunch.  She watched him give her a jaunty wave and stroll down the street to where they had parked his ship.

 

True to his word, he was back at the Mott-Noble door exactly at 11:00.  Donna had mentioned that they usually were more casual on Christmas morning, so he decided to surprise her again and dressed accordingly.  As he approached, he wound the overly-long scarf he wore around his neck another time or two, so as not to trip going up the steps.  In one hand he held a magnum of champagne, in the other a colourful shopping bag in a Christmas motif, containing his gifts.

 

He rang the bell and waited, bouncing from foot to foot in anticipation.  Suddenly, the door swung open and Donna, facing behind her, called out, “Hold on, Mum.  I’ll set the table as soon as I get the door.”  She turned back and stopped, dumbfounded by what she saw.  On her front step stood a grinning Time Lord, resplendent in one of the gaudiest Christmas jumpers she had ever seen. 

 

Shades of salmon, burgundy, lemon and lime green battled for dominance, while reindeer and snowflakes danced across his not-as-skinny-as-she-thought chest.  He had eschewed his pinstripes completely and opted for form-fitting jeans and the inevitable burgundy trainers.

 

She just stared.  Words would not form in her mouth.  She didn’t move until Sylvia shouted from the kitchen, “Will you close the door?  You’re letting out all the heating!”  Hastily, Donna pulled the Doctor inside.  “Where on Earth did you get that jumper?” she asked, incredulously.

 

The Doctor’s face fell, and he looked down at his attire.  “Don’t you like it?  You said casual.  I thought it was appropriate.” 

 

He looked so crestfallen Donna didn’t have the heart to tease him.  “I did.  And it is.  But blimey.  You could have gone for something a little less garish.”

 

He pouted.  “I thought it was festive.”

 

Donna laughed.  “ _Festive_ is not quite the word I’d use, but come on.  Lunch is almost ready.”

 

The Doctor followed Donna into the kitchen, leaving his bag discretely in the behind the settee in the lounge.  “Merry Christmas, Mrs Noble,” he enthused, and handed her the bottle he carried.

 

Sylvia eyed it suspiciously.  “What’s this?” she asked, pointedly ignoring his unusual attire.

 

“A bottle of the finest Mondrovan sparkling wine,” he replied, proudly.  “Mondrovan grapes – well, they’re not exactly _grapes_ but the closest Earth equivalent – anyway, they are grown under the light of triple suns and watered with kind of natural spring water that makes they the juiciest and most flavourful in the quadrant of the Galaxy.”

 

Sylvia stared at the bottle, and then back at the Doctor.  “Alien wine?  Are you sure it’s safe for us mere humans?”  She couldn’t help the slight sting of sarcasm that tinged the question.

 

“Perfectly safe,” he replied.  “Donna and I sampled a number of different wines when we visited the capital city.  They had a bit of a to-do after we stopped a neighbouring warrior tribe from invading.”  He looked over at his companion.  “Donna was brilliant, as usual.”

 

Trying to hide her blush at his words of praise, Donna went to the refrigerator and pulled out a jug of orange juice.  “We can make Buck’s Fizz!” she exclaimed, and opened a cupboard door to extract four wine glasses.

 

The Doctor was appalled.  “You don’t mean to mix that fine Mondrovan wine with...with…. ** _orange juice_**!!” he sputtered.  “Donna, what are you thinking?!?  You know how delicate a taste it has, how flavourful, how…how…how…oh, bloody hell!” he blurted out, as he watched her adulterate his beautiful gift.

 

“Oh, hush,” she retorted.  “And don’t swear in my mother’s house.  Just try it.”  She shoved a glass into his hand before he could move.

 

Grudgingly, he raised the glass up to his lips and, with a grimace, he took a drop of liquid into his mouth.  His eyes opened widely in surprise, and he smiled with delight.  Taking a longer sip, he beamed.  “Donna Noble.  You never cease to amaze me.  Where did you learn such culinary wonderment??”

 

Donna gave her mother a look that said _‘see what I have to put up with?’_ and responded, “It’s just OJ and champagne.  It’s not rocket science.  And take **_small_** sips, Spaceman.  That wine’s got a kick that hits you later, remember?.  No getting drunk on Christmas Day, please.”  She smirked at him and he rolled his eyes back at her.

 

Wilf watched all of this with a knowing smile on his face.

 

After a very pleasant luncheon – made that much more pleasant with moderate doses of Mondrovan Fizz – the four retired to the lounge to open presents.  Donna entered the room and suddenly remembered the excitement she had once felt seeing the lit Christmas tree with all the packages surrounding it.  She giggled as her grandfather donned a red-furred hat and played Santa.

 

Sylvia’s gift to Donna was a sturdy canvas rucksack crammed with every imaginable emergency item she could find: extensive first aid kit, torches, batteries, safety matches, the lot.  “I went to a survivalist shop and got everything I could think of.  Heaven knows what kind of trouble you could find yourself in, traveling with this one,” indicating the Doctor.  Normally, this remark would have been made with derision and scorn, but there was a tone more of concern and caring in her voice.

 

Donna was touched beyond belief.  “Oh, Mum,” she cried, hugging her mother tightly.  “That is one of the most thoughtful things you’ve ever given me.  You have no idea how useful this is going to be.  **_Someone’s_** got to be prepared,” she teased, giving the Doctor a cheeky grin.

 

“Oi!!”  He tried to sound affronted but agreed with a chuckle.  “She’s right.  She takes care of **_me_** much of the time.”

 

Wilf presented Donna with thick leather-bound book.  “It’s a journal.  For all your travels.  You write ‘em down and come back and share with your ol’ Grandad.  Let me see the stars through your eyes, eh?”

 

“I will, Gramps,” she promised.

 

“And I’ll make sure she does,” the Doctor chimed in.

 

It was now Donna’s turn to give her gifts.  Wilf was thrilled with the gloves and scarf, commenting on how closely it matched his cap.  “You’ve got your Gran’s eye, you do.  Eileen could always put together the perfect outfit.  Thanks, swee’hart.”

 

Donna handed Sylvia her gift with a little trepidation.  She was really not sure if her mother would accept it, personal as it was.  The Doctor, seated behind Donna on the settee, gave her shoulder a little squeeze of encouragement.  Sylvia unwrapped the paper and carefully put it aside.  Reaching in, she moved the excelsior padding aside.  Without comment, she stared down at the little statue of mother and daughter.

 

“I saw it in a little shop,” Donna explained nervously, “and thought you might like it.  I know it’s not very expensive, or even very well made.”  The longer Sylvia remained quiet, the more Donna babbled.  “If you don’t like it, don’t worry, I’ll take it back and get you something else.”  She knew she would keep the statue for herself but she wasn’t going to tell her mother that.

 

Sylvia still did not speak, but stood and talked across the room.  Carefully, she placed it on the mantle and turned, tears brimming in her eyes.  “Not long after you were born, Donna, your father found a small statue very much like this one.  He always called it _‘his girls’_.  It got broken in one of our moves when you were small, and I was devastated.  I never imagined seeing anything like it again.”  She walked over to the settee took her daughter’s hands.  “It’s absolutely perfect,” she said simply, and returned to her chair.

 

Donna had never seen her mother so emotional.  To save her some embarrassment, she handed the Doctor a flat rectangular box.  “This is for you,” Spaceman.”

 

His face beamed a great smile.  “A present?  For **_me_**?!  Donna, you shouldn’t have!”  He joyfully ripped the wrapping paper and tore open the box.  He pulled out a silk tie in rich tones of purple, blue and mauve, shot with swirls of metallic silver.  He held it up and admired it.  “It’s beautiful!  And such unusual fabric.  Where did you find it?!”

 

She smiled, pleased that she was able to surprised him at last.  “While you were haggling with the wine merchant over that Mondrovan wine, **_I_** nipped into a little clothier’s shop.  It’s actually a rather unusual fabric.”  She pointed to the silver threads.  “They tell me that these are not just a pretty decoration.  They change colour in the presence of toxic substances.  Now, you won’t have to go licking everything in sight to find out if they’re dangerous.”  She detected her mother’s raised eyebrows.  “Don’t ask,” was all she said.  “I’ll go make tea.”

 

She started to get up but the Doctor stopped her.  “Wait, we’re not done.”  He reached behind the settee and produced the carry bag he had brought with him.  Pulling out a medium sized box, he handed it to Donna.

 

She had forgotten that he had said he had procured gifts on his own.  Curious, she removed the wrapping, opened the box, and removed an item from inside.  A sound of disdain came from the woman beside her.  “Trainers?” Sylvia scoffed.  “He gave you **_trainers_**?”

 

“Oh, but these are no ordinary trainers, Mrs Noble.,” the Doctor insisted.  “These are 48th Century technology.  They are the lightest-weight fabric imaginable which moulds to the individual’s foot, giving it the most comfortable and supported fit.  The longer they are worn, the better they fit.  They are waterproof and stain proof.  And….” He paused for effect.  “They adapt to the wearer’s garments, so they will always be in fashion.”

 

“But still,” Sylvia repeated.  “Trainers??!!”

 

Donna had been examining the shoes as the Doctor explained.  She looked over at her mother and agreed.  “Actually, Mum, this is a fabulous gift.  You have no idea the amount of running involved traipsing after this one.”  She turned to her companion.  “Thank you, Doctor.  They’re perfect.”

 

He grinned.  “Only the best for my Donna,” he stated.  “Now, Wilf.  I’m sure you’ll like this.”  He handed the elder gentleman a small box.

 

Wilf was surprised and thrilled.  “For me?  Why, Doctor, that is awfully kind of you to remember an old man.”  He took the box and attacked the paper as the Doctor educated him.

 

“It’s an enhancement for your telescope,” he clarified.  “The lenses are of an almost unbreakable crystal that has been formed and polished to my precise specifications.  It will fit exactly onto your existing lens and will increase the magnification 200-fold.  I’ll install it later tonight, and we can check out that star cluster.  All I ask is that you not tell anyone about it and remove it when others are around.”  He chuckled.  “Can’t have alien artefacts out in the open, now can we?”

 

Wilf was surprisingly subdued.  “Oh, my, Doctor.  I don’t know what to say.  It’s all too much.”

 

“Nonsense,” the Doctor protested.  “An avid star watcher like yourself deserves only the best.”

 

He then produced the final package, and handed it solemnly to Sylvia.  “Mrs Noble.”

 

Sylvia looked uncomfortable.  “I don’t have anything for you,” she said, self-consciously.

 

“Oh, you have already given me the greatest gift.”  He glanced at Donna.  “You have raised the amazing woman who I have the privilege of having as my companion and best friend.”  Donna blushed.

 

Sylvia was examining the wrapping, to allow her a moment to compose herself.  “This is an unusual pattern,” she observed.

 

“Ah, yes.  That is actually the written form of the language of my people.  It is a collection of festive saying similar to _‘Merry Christmas’,’ Happy Holidays’,_ or _‘Blessed Yule’_.  Please.  Open it.”

 

Sylvia carefully unwrapped the present, and set the paper aside to save for later.  She took out what looked like a fifteen centimetre crystal ball on a wooden base, which was carved in the same script as the wrapping paper.  It was similar to a snow globe, but instead of a light liquid with glitter or snow, the crystal was dark, with small points of light, like star fields.  In the centre, a larger point glowed and pulsed in a regular rhythm.”  She held it up and stared at it, turning it this way and that in confusion.

 

“Doctor,” Wilf stated.  “I think your snow globe got damaged.  None of the sparkly things move when you shake it.”

 

“It’s not a snow globe,” the Doctor began.  “Let me explain.  On Gallifrey – that was my home planet – every Time Lord, and even some of the higher-ranking Gallifreyans, had these in their homes.  The central lights were attuned to a specific person’s electrical biorhythms and, when one of them was away, especially off-planet, the light would continue to glow, which allowed those at home to be assured that the traveller was safe.”

 

The Doctor took the item from Sylvia’s hand and held it up.  “I recalibrated this one to Donna’s life-signs.  It will track her presence in the Universe and shine brightly.”  He handed the globe back to her.  “Mrs Noble.  I know you don’t like me much.  I know you think Donna is wasting her life travelling with me, that she could do so much better if she stayed on Earth.  But I also know that you want the best for her, and that your feelings are coloured by fear for her safety.  I hope this little trinket will help alleviate some of that anxiety.”

 

For the second time that day, Sylvia Noble was at a loss for words.  She stood again and walked to the mantelpiece, staring at the globe and running her finger over the glowing dot.  She began to speak slowly.  “You know, when I was a little girl, I dreamed of someday having a daughter of my own, a little carbon copy of myself.  I’m not a very imaginative woman.  I’m practical and organized and like everything in its place.  And I wanted to teach my daughter to be exactly the same, to guide her to the perfect, practical job, an appropriate job for a decent young lady, and then to see her married.

 

“I didn’t get that.  My plans went awry from the minute Madam here was born.  The bright shock of ginger hair was just the start of the surprises I had waiting for me.  She wasn’t the prim, proper little lady I had hoped to dress up and parade proudly at the mothers’ groups.  She was independent and wilful and very much her own person.  I tried to mould her into what **_I_** wanted her to be, instead of relishing her differences and encouraging her individuality.  And I lashed out in frustration that my idea of a perfect life wasn’t good enough for her. 

 

“But you are right, Doctor.  I **_did_** and I still do want the best for her.  I am now realizing that my best and **_her_** best are not the same thing.  Yes, I thought that Donna was wasting her life, with her temp jobs and then running off with some … **_alien_**.  It went against everything I believed was proper and decent.  But mostly, it frightens me.  The knowledge that there are creatures from outer space invading Earth is hard enough to believe, but seeing first-hand how dangerous they can be terrifies me.  And knowing that my daughter is out there, on the front lines, so to speak, well, I have spent many a sleepless night, I can tell you.”

 

She paused for breath, but her audience could tell she was not yet finished, so the three wisely kept silent.  “What frightens me the most, though, is the thought that Donna may not want to come home, after what she’s experienced with you, and how important and valued you make her feel.  I did her and our relationship a great disservice, and I just hope it hasn’t been damaged beyond saving.”

 

Donna couldn’t hold back any longer.  She leapt to her feet and pulled Sylvia into a tight embrace.  “Oh, Mum,” she cried, literally.  “Don’t say that.  Of course, I’ll want to come home.”  The two women held each other and murmured tearfully. 

 

Wilf whispered to the Doctor, “Maybe we should let them be, eh? Doctor?”  The two men went into the kitchen and Wilf turned on the kettle.

 

The Doctor tugged his ear nervously.  “I’m so sorry, Wilf.  I never imagined my gift would set off something like that.”

 

“No your fault, son,” Wilf replied.  “I reckon those two have been buildin’ up to somethin’ like this.  It was bound to happen.”  He took four mugs out of the cupboard and set them on a tray.  “That was a very thoughtful gift, and I’m sure it will ease Sylvia’s mind when you are off on one of your adventures.”

 

The kettle whistled and Wilf poured boiling water into a teapot, swirled it around to heat up the ceramic, then added the tea leaves in a diffuser.  A small pitcher of milk and sugar bowl joined the mugs on the tray, along with four spoons.  Deciding that the tea had steeped long enough, he removed the diffuser and, at the last minute, reached for a bottle of blackberry brandy.

 

“I think we could all use a bit of cheer, don’t you, Doctor?”

 

“I don’t think it could hurt,” the Doctor agreed, as he watched the older man add a liberal amount to the pot.  He picked up the tray and carried it back into the lounge.  Upon entering, he was relieved to see that the two women had resumed their places, and only a slight touch of redness to their eyes attested to the recent emotional episode.

 

Donna took the tray from the Doctor and placed it on a side table.  Sylvia stood with the globe in her hand and approached him.  “Doctor, I apologize for my outburst.  I can’t thank you enough for this.  Having a way of knowing that, wherever she is, my daughter is safe means everything to me.  I know you will watch out for her and bring her back home.”

 

He put his hand over the one she rested on the globe.  “I promise, Mrs Noble, we will visit more often.  And, for the record, it’s usually Donna keeping me safe!”

 

She gave him a tight smile.  “I think after all this, you can probably call me Sylvia.”

 

His companion poured the tea and Sylvia went into the kitchen and returned with pieces of Christmas cake.  They then settled down to watch the Queen’s Christmas Message on BBC One.  Whether it was the brandy in the tea or the emotional strain of earlier, Donna’s mother succumbed to weariness not soon after, and it looked like her grandfather was headed that way too.

 

While Donna carried the tea things to the kitchen, the Doctor went over to Wilf’s chair and leaned over, whispering conspiratorially.  “Wilf, my good man, I have another little surprise for Donna, and I need to leave for a short while.  I promise we will be back for supper, and I’ll install that lens tonight.  Can you cover for me if Sylvia wakes up?”

 

Wilf grinned up at him.  “You go be good to my girl.  I’ll take care of things here, don’t you worry.”  Then he closed his eyes.

 

The Doctor walked into the kitchen as Donna was finishing up the washing.  “Donna?  Can that wait a bit?”

 

She turned, wiping her hands on a tea towel.  “What’s up, Spaceman?”

 

“I’ve got something to show you.  Come with me, back to the TARDIS.  Please?”

 

“Now?” she asked suspiciously.  “Mum expects us to stay all day.  It’s Christmas.  And you promised.”

 

“I know, and I did.  But this is important.  I’ve already told your grandfather we’re leaving for a bit.  But I fully intend to be back before supper.”  He gave her what she referred to as his _Time Puppy_ look.

 

She snickered and shook her head.  “Oh, all right.  But you had better get us back on time!”

 

They quietly left the house and walked to where the TARDIS was parked down the street, hidden behind a perception filter.  As soon as they entered, the Doctor scurried around the console, checking and setting coordinates.  Donna watched baffled as the Time Rotor began to move.

 

“Oi!  Time Boy!!  I thought you said you had something to show me.  Are we in flight?!”

 

He grinned at her and waggled his eyebrows.  “I **_do_** have something to show you.  I never said it was in London!”

 

She glared at him as the Rotor moved up and down, but after only a few minutes, it slowed, and she felt the gentle bump of the ship landing.  She started toward the doors, her curiosity outweighing her caution.  The Doctor stopped her before she went too far.

 

“Wait!” he instructed.  He ran over to the coatrack by the door and grabbed the heavy coat she had worn on the Oodsphere.  Handing it to her, he stated, “You’ll need this.  It’s a bit of a walk.”

 

“Where are we?” she asked suspiciously as pulled on the coat.  She was glad she had decided to wear boots that morning.  “The North Pole?”

 

“Not quite,” he said cryptically.  With a dramatic flourish, he threw open the TARDIS doors.  Before them lay an expanse of sparkling white snow, pure and unspoiled by foot, paw or hoof.  Donna’s breath caught in her throat, and not just because of the temperature.  She had never seen anything so beautiful.

 

“Blimey, it’s cold!!  Where **_are_** we?” she asked again, even more curious than before.

 

“You’ll see,” he answered, as he helped her out of the ship and steadied her on the packed snow.  “It’s a surprise.”

 

Taking her hand, they walked for a while, the crunching of the snow under their feet the only sound.  All around them, there were evergreen trees heavily laden with snow.  After what seemed like an hour – but was in reality only a few minutes – a dim glow appeared in the distance before them.  They tramped through the snow until they reached a fenced in area surrounding a medium-sized chalet. 

 

The Doctor opened the gate and led Donna up to the front door.  Knocking sharply, he waited until, a few seconds later, it was opened by a matronly woman with wavy white hair.  Upon seeing them, her crystal blue eyes lit up and she smiled broadly.

 

“Doctor!” she exclaimed.  “We weren’t expecting you so soon.  Go right in.  He’s in the study, I think.”

 

The Doctor smiled.  “Thank you, Mary.”  Turning to his companion, he instructed, “Come on, Donna.  I have someone for you to meet.”

 

Donna tried again to get answers out of him, but he shushed her and told her she’d learn all she needed to know soon.  They traversed a series of wood-panelled corridors until they reached a set of large, richly carved doors.  Rapping softly, the Doctor turned the brass knob and opened the door.

 

Donna stood back as the Doctor stepped into what was clearly a man’s study.  Bookcases lined three walls and two were filled to capacity with what looked like first editions.  The third wall had ornately-bound leather journals, each dated and going back centuries.  Much of the fourth wall was taken up by an enormous fireplace and hearth.

 

Kneeling in front of this was an older gentleman, tending the fire.  He wore dark track bottoms and sheepskin boots, and a blue cardigan with white snowflakes across the back.  Without turning, he spoke in a warm, deep voice.  “Well, Doctor.  Are you hover in the doorway all night, or are you coming in?” he chuckled.

 

The Doctor laughed and walked in.  “Mary told you I was coming, I suppose.”

 

The man stood and turned.  His bearded face broke out in a broad grin.  “I don’t need my wife to let me know when you’re around.  I can read the timelines almost as well as you can.”  The two men embraced each other.  “So to what do I owe this rare pleasure?”

 

Before the Doctor could answer, he heard Donna make a strangled noise behind him.  She had not entered the room with the Doctor but stayed on the threshold, taking in the sight before her.  She was pale and held her lips tightly together.  The Doctor rushed over to her.

 

“Donna?” he asked.  “What’s wrong?”  He looked at her carefully and realized with some trepidation that what he initially assumed was a sign of illness in her eyes was actually supressed anger.

 

“ _What’s wrong_ , he asks,” she whispered sarcastically, so the other man wouldn’t hear.  “What’s wrong!?!  I trusted you, Time Boy.  I told you my deepest secret, my feelings for this blasted season, and I thought you understood.  How long did it take you to set this all up, eh?  _‘Let’s have a laugh at Donna’s expense on Christmas.’_   Is that why you’ve been so nice to my family, so I wouldn’t guess what you were really up to?”

 

The Doctor was at a loss.  “Donna, I have absolutely no idea what you’re on about.  What did I do now?”

 

“Seriously?” she hissed.  “You expect me to believe that this is all real??  Look at this place.  Look at **_him_**!”  She pointed to the older man.  “White hair, beard, a little paunchy.  And those wire glasses.  You really pulled out all the stops, didn’t you?!”  She stood, trembling with rage, arms folded tightly against her chest.

 

The man crossed over to her and smiled, a little sadly.  “Donna Eileen Noble.  It’s been a long time.  I’m not surprised you don’t recognize me.”

 

She rounded on him.  “You can drop the act, old man.  You can’t really think that I’d buy that this is the North Pole and you’re Santa Claus.”

 

“Well,” he began, “you’re right.  It’s not the North Pole.  That’s an urban myth that I’ve gladly let stand.  I can’t let every Tom, Dick and Doctor know where I live, or even what dimension we’re in.  And I’ve been called by many names.  But you can call me Jeff.”  He held out his hand to her.

 

This caught Donna off guard, first that the man knew her name without being introduced, and second that he called himself by that incongruous title.  She looked over at the Doctor and he smiled and nodded.  She hesitantly took his hand.  It was warm and strong.  The he led them over to the fireplace, where two armchairs and footstools were arranged in front of a roaring blaze.  Jeff and Donna sat in the chairs, and the Doctor folded his lanky frame and sat on the footstool at Donna’s feet.

 

There was an uncomfortable silence for a few moments, which Donna broke by asking bluntly, “How did you know my name, my **_full_** name?  I don’t remember telling you that part, Doctor.”

 

“Donna,” Jeff assured her, “this is no elaborate ruse of the Doctor’s to play with your feelings.  I didn’t know about your visit until just a few minutes before you arrived.  I know your name because I have known **_you_** most of your life.  I really am Father Christmas, or _Sandy Caws_ , as you used to call me.”

 

Donna gasped and goggled at him.  She knew she had never told the Doctor that.  In fact, only her grandparents had ever heard her say that.  Even at a very young age, she was very cautious about what she said around her mother, who was always quick to correct her grammar or pronunciation.  “How……??” she trailed off.

 

Jeff smiled again, and reached into the pocket of his cardigan.  Taking out a folded piece of paper, he handed it to her.  Taking it with trembling hands, she opened it and began to read silently.  Tears welled up and spilled over, slowly falling over her cheeks.  When she had finished, she dropped the paper into her lap and buried her face in her hands.

 

The Doctor immediately knelt beside her, throwing her arm around her shoulder and holding her in a comforting embrace.  He was completely baffled by the turn of events.  This was _**not**_ what he had intended, not at all.  Taking a handkerchief out of his jeans pocket and handed it to her, returning to his seat to allow her to regain her composure.

 

Donna took a deep breath and sighed deeply.  Looking over at the older man across from her, she struggled for words.  Finally, she said simply, “I’m sorry.”

 

Jeff smiled warmly at her.  “No apology necessary, my dear.  It’s not every day that one has one’s childhood beliefs upturned, especially in such an unexpected manner.”  He turned to the Doctor.  “And really.  You should have known better than to spring something like this on someone.”

 

The Doctor had the good grace to look sheepish.  “In my defence, I was hoping it would be a **_pleasant_** surprise.  Donna, I am so, so sorry.  You have to believe that I never meant to hurt you.  I thought meeting the real Father Christmas might bring back your love of the season.  As usual, it all went horribly wrong.”

 

Donna finished dabbing her eyes and smacked his shoulder playfully.  “You really should have told me.  I probably wouldn’t have believed you but at least it wouldn’t have been quite such a shock.”  She smiled and squeezed his arm.  “It’s all a bit overwhelming but thank you.”

 

At that moment, a woman’s voice called out, “Jeffrey Nicholas Kristoff Claussen.  What kind of host are you?  Clear a place on your desk, please.  I’ve brought tea and biscuits for our guests.”

 

The Doctor and Jeff scrambled to make room for the large laden tray that Mary Claussen carried.  She instructed Donna to move an accent table in front of the fire so they could take their refreshments there.  Mary poured them each a cup of the most fragrant tea that smelled and tasted of berries, vanilla, and just a hint of cardamom.  Donna brought the platter with an assortment of beautifully decorated biscuits.  She and the Doctor shared a footstool, while Mary and Jeff took their places in the armchairs.

 

They spent a very pleasant two hours – and several cups of tea – and talked.  While he wouldn’t divulge any trade secrets, Donna learned that the Doctor had ‘assisted’ Jeff over the years with various techniques, improving his delivery systems.  After listening quietly, she got up the courage to ask the question that had popped into her head when she first realized who she had met.

 

“Jeff,” she queried.  “I have always wondered about something.”

 

“Only one thing?” Jeff chuckled.

 

“Yeah.  So.”  She paused, unsure if she really wanted to do this.  “Just what is it with the tangerines?  And the walnuts??”

 

The Doctor laughed heartily at the look of shocked outrage on the older man’s face.  “I **_told_** you it was a bad idea!”

 

“I’m sorry,” Donna spluttered.  “It’s not that bad.  It’s just…well…I could never figure out what a piece of fruit had to do with Christmas.”  At that, everyone started to laugh, even Jeff.

 

Finally, the evening came to a close, when Donna reminded the Doctor that they did have to get back home for supper with her family.  The Claussens showed them to the door, but before they left, Mary and Donna went into the kitchen to get a tin of gingerbread biscuits that Donna knew her mother would enjoy. 

 

As she packed the tin, Mary said, “Your mother does love you, you know.  She’s wanted the best for you, but never really understood what that meant.”

 

“I know,” Donna assured her.  “We had a good cry about it this afternoon.  I think we both realize we made mistakes, and can now move forward.”

 

Mary patted her hand and agreed.  “That’s lovely to hear, my dear.”

 

Meanwhile, the Doctor and Jeff waited in the foyer.  The older man leaned in and said softly, “I need to have a word before the ladies get back,” and eyed the door furtively.

 

The Doctor frowned.  “About what?” he asked suspiciously.

 

“About Donna.  Oh, don’t worry, Doctor.  It’s not what you think.  I just wanted to say you made a fine choice of companions.  She’ll be good for you.”

 

“You don’t need to tell me that, Jeff.  I thank the gods every day for my good fortune.”

 

“She’s a special woman.  **_Very_** strong timeline.  And tightly woven with your own, I might add.”

 

The Doctor thought about this for a moment.  He hadn’t attempted to look at the timelines since Donna found him again at Adipose Industries.  He had just enjoyed having someone who challenged him and encouraged him, and yes, even put him in his place when he needed it.

 

“I agree.  She **_is_** special.  Most of my companions have been.  I’ve been very lucky.”

 

Jeff glowered at him.  “Indeed you have, my boy.  But take care with this one.  She’s not just any companion.  Don’t take her for granted.”

 

“Oh, you needn’t worry about that,” he laughed, his words making the Doctor a little self-conscious.  “Donna would never let me get away with that.”

 

“I mean it, Doctor.  There’s something unique happening here, and you would be wise to pay attention,” Jeff scolded.

 

The Doctor had never seen his friend so serious, especially at this time of year.  “I’d be a fool to ignore the words of Father Christmas, now wouldn’t I?” he answered back, in a pointedly sarcastic tone.

 

“Don’t give me cheek, Time Lord.”

 

The Doctor smirked.  “I’ll _‘not shut out the lessons that you teach’_ , dear friend.  I promise.”

 

“Oi!  Don’t you quote Dickens at me, and badly at that, you scoundrel,” the older man retorted, trying to sound stern, but enjoying the joke too much to keep it up for long.

 

The Doctor patted his shoulder.  “In all seriousness, I think I understand what you’re trying to tell me, and I am grateful.  She is a jewel – however in the rough sometimes – and shall be appreciated as she deserves.”

 

“See that she is.”

 

Donna and Mary soon joined them and heartfelt goodbyes were made.  When Jeff drew Donna in a great bear hug, he whispered in her ear, making her cheeks tinge pink slightly.  The two travellers then departed.

 

As they began to walk back to the TARDIS, the Doctor automatically held out his hand, much as he had done in the church on Christmas Eve.  Donna moved the tin of gingerbread to the other hand, and readily clasped his hand.  They ambled silently on the way to the ship, each thinking over the words of wisdom that the white-haired man had imparted.

 

When they were about halfway there, the Doctor spoke.  “What was on that paper Jeff showed you that upset you so?”

 

Donna fished in her pocket and handed it to him.  He read aloud as they walked.

 

**Chiswick, London, England**

**December 2, 1976**

**Dear Father Christmas,**

**I wanted you to know that this will be my last letter to you.  I’ve known for a couple of years now that you aren’t real, but just in case you are, I wanted to explain.**

**Mum says I’m foolish to believe in a fairytale, and that I have to grow up and become more responsible.  I am not sure exactly what I am responsible for, but Mum knows better than I do.**

**So I am going to say goodbye now, and thank you for all the gifts you gave me in the past.  I really did like meeting you every Christmas and hope you will be well.**

**Yours truly,**

**Donna Eileen Noble  aged 8**

 

 

The Doctor handed the paper back to Donna and put his arm around her shoulder, pulling her close.  No words were needed.  She knew he now understood everything.

 

The TARDIS was waiting for them, her doors open and warm light spilling out onto the snow.  Donna took off her coat and hung it back on the coatrack, and deposited the tin on the pilot’s seat.  The Doctor danced around the console, setting the coordinates carefully, so as to return to Chiswick at exactly the right time and place.  When he was done, he turned to his companion.

 

“Donna,” he began hesitantly.  “I am so sorry…”

 

Donna cut him off.  “Stop right there, Spaceman.  You have nothing to be sorry about.  **_I_** should apologize to **_you_** for ranting like a lunatic at you.  You were trying to do something nice for me, and I bit your head off.  I should have realized that you would never be that cruel.  I should have given you the chance to explain before I acted like a complete harpy.”

 

She walked over to stand beside him at the console.  Putting her hand on his arm, she gazed up at him.  “It was a wonderful gesture and I appreciate it.  You’ve given me a gift that I will never forget.”  She leaned up and placed a kiss on his cheek.  “Let’s go home.”

 

The Doctor threw his arm around her shoulder and pulled her into a tight hug.  “Home it is.  _Allons-y!_ ”

 

 

So, this is a little late.  I missed Christmas, but beat the New Year. 

I hope everyone had a wonderful holiday, whatever you celebrate.  And may 2019 be filled with magic and joy!!

 

 


End file.
